


The Secret of the Mysterious Music

by earlgreyson



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreyson/pseuds/earlgreyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is determined to catch whoever (actually he totally knows who it is) is playing music late at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret of the Mysterious Music

 

It was a late summer night when Charles put his Top Secret Mission into action. Prepared in every way—he'd really had too much fun preparing for this Mission—he allowed himself a small smile. He sat quietly in his room, some long forgotten book laying in his lap. He was waiting.

 

Over the past few weeks he had begun to hear music late in the night. He had only noticed it one night as he crept to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Light, unhurried keys of sound floating in the air like motes of illuminated dust. Curious, Charles had went to investigate, but by the time he had traced the music to its origin it had ended and there was no one around.

 

Charles knew it was Erik. It was only the two of them in the house lately, Raven having gone on a trip to Amsterdam. University at an end, the three friends—well two friends and one sister—had retired to the Xavier homestead. He hadn't spent much time in the house since the death of his parents, but he felt it was a good place to figure out the next step. Plus he wanted to spoil Erik a little.

 

It was no secret to the scientist that Erik was his one ideal soul mate. Charles was almost disturbingly in touch with his feelings and the feelings of the people around him. A minor in Psychology did not help with that ability. He may be in love with genetics, but Charles had to know everything about everyone. It was an annoying habit of his but his family and friends had forgiven him his fault because he was just too damn nice.

 

As the faint hints of music slipped into Charles' ears he smiled again. Placing the book in his lap on the nearby desk, the man began his preparations. In true Secret Mission spirit, he had a completely black outfit. Granted, he'd had to steal the turtleneck from Erik's laundry—it was far too big on him, but Charles did not mind in the least. Quickly, he pulled on his Top Secret Mission uniform and slipped quietly from his room.

 

The only reason Charles had resorted to such a dramatic investigation technique was because Erik was being frustratingly close-lipped on the subject. Charles had asked the towering man once at breakfast a few weeks before about the music, but Erik had merely said that he had no idea what Charles was talking about and had he snuck marijuana to the house. Charles had glared and told him that, no, he had not, and had pouted off. It had been a one...alright, he'd done it a few times, but it had been a terribly enlightening experience and it was just because Erik frowned on the use of recreational drugs that he had not continued his experiments with it. Plus, his dealer had gotten arrested and he was far too proper to go and find another. Brand loyalty and all that.

 

So now Charles was sneaking through the halls of his childhood home trying his very best to not start humming 

 

 _Secret Agent Man_

 

. It was a narrow miss. Instead, he focused on not letting the floorboards creak. As a child he had discovered the easiest ways to traverse the house unnoticed. It helped him get past all sorts of irritating things; parents, maids, bedtimes. He utilized those well-honed skills now as he drew closer and closer to the small drawing room where he and Erik played chess most nights. The music grew louder and Charles was positively able to identify it as piano.

 

There was an old grand piano in the corner that was dutifully maintained but rarely used. Charles had taken piano lessons as a child, but they never seemed to stick. He also was tone deaf, so music seemed to not be one of his many talents. As the man approached the room he felt excitement build in him. Now he could discover the secret of the man who played piano and refused to speak about it.

 

Being as quiet as possible, Charles twisted the old crystal doorknob and opened it slightly. Earlier in the day while Erik had been reading, the curious man had oiled the hinges of the door. It now opened smoothly and quietly. Only allowing a crack to show, Charles peaked into the room. At this angle he couldn't see the piano, but the music was loud and he could pick out the composer as Chopin. Charles smiled his approval and chanced to open the door a little more.

 

Erik's head came into view and the watcher took in his friend. Head bowed, rapt attention slightly wrinkling his brow, Erik probably wouldn't notice a bomb going off in the next room. Charles sat on the floor, head leaning against the door frame, and watched. He couldn't see Erik's long fingers moving like water over the keys, he couldn't see his foot tapping slightly in time with the beat, but Charles saw Erik's head swaying and his eyes fluttering open and closed slowly. Erik sat on the worn bench and played as if everything he had ever done had lead to this moment. Every sacrifice and every prize making this one movement of finger from key to key, foot pressing slightly on one pedal or another. The intensity didn't startle Charles for Erik threw it into every little thing he did, but the look of peace on his face was rare. Erik was a tortured soul, a man who suffered from the world's injustices.

 

As Charles watched and listened, he fell into a near hypnotic state. Eyes half closed, he leaned heavily against the door frame. No thoughts waded in his mind, only note and chord and endless waves of emotion. As Erik played Charles found himself drifting off to sleep. He didn't notice as between one moment and the next his eyes finally closed and he slowly slipped down until he was laying on the warm wooden floor.

 

Erik found him like that hours later when he finally stopped playing and opened the door. He'd seen the door open slightly and had internally chuckled. He knew that Charles had a million questions, he always did, and he knew that sometime soon he would take it upon himself to investigate. Erik continued to play, the meditative state of making music calming and holding him steady.

 

Sighing and rolling his eyes slightly, Erik fetched a blanket and pillow for the lightly snoring psychologist and slipped them on him. In the morning he would not mention it and Charles wouldn't either, but they would smile at each other as they fell into the routine of Charles pulling the blanket and pillow that was now stashed behind a display case of pottery fragments from ancient Rome and fell to sleep as Erik serenaded him with the music of the world.

 

He let Charles keep the turtleneck.


End file.
